Bluejay
by defying3reason
Summary: The Flying Jesses aren't doing well exactly, but they're certainly earning their bread. When Haly's Circus sets up shop just on the other side of town from them though, they start to lay the pressure on their young son James to compete with the bigger act. AU. Contains child abuse. Update: The Jesses try to reclaim James; the boys find something interesting in the basement.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

James Jesse gave his parents the slip almost as soon as he woke up the morning Haly's Circus came to town. He'd picked a few pockets the night before and was intending to spend his takings at the card shop as soon as it opened; consequently, he was the first performer from Hamill's Circus to see the big trucks pass through downtown Metropolis on their way to a vacant field just east of the city.

Despite all the traveling he'd done, James was a seven year old boy with a seven year old boy's world view and concerns. He thought the long, flashy line of trucks with their painted sides was neat, but he didn't give them much more thought than that. He had no notion of competition, nor did he think the trucks had done a very good job of representing a circus. The performers on their advertisements looked happy and clean, and the audience was _way_ too full.

When the store opened James bought some new trading cards and a few comic books, then he got some ice cream for breakfast from another shop across the street. He got a few funny looks from people, but not nearly as many as when they stopped in small towns. For whatever reason, people in the suburbs always expected James to have his mother with him.

James poked around the city a while longer, then figured he should get back to his circus on the western side of the city. His parents might think he'd tried to run away again, and besides that he was getting hungry and could do with a real meal.

He went to his family's vardo, hoping he could hide the comics and cards he'd purchased before his parents yelled at him for wasting money (never mind that the money wasn't theirs). Unfortunately, he got back in just as his papa was waking up.

Lucky for James, his papa had one of his headaches, and he barely noticed his son. James got his secret goods under his pillow and darted back out of the vardo as quickly as possible.

He was immediately grabbed by his mother, who had an iron grip on his wrist. She started dragging him towards the big top despite James' best effort to impede their progress by dragging his feet.

"And where have you been all morning?"

"I-I went for a walk! Mama, you're pulling my arm out!"

"Well then pick up your clumsy feet! We need to practice."

"But I'm hungry. Can I get lunch first?"

She gave him a shake for that. "If you wanted to eat before work then you shouldn't have wandered off! We have to work extra hard now Giovanni. Haly's is in town. Eddie and Lloyd saw them while they were out getting ciggs. I suppose it was bound to happen eventually, but I'd always hoped we could avoid each other."

Helen was blatantly talking more to herself than her young son, who couldn't understand the panic in her voice.

"But Mama, what's wrong with Haly's?"

Helen stopped walking and crouched down so that she was at eye level with James. "Haly's is another circus, Giovanni. CC Haly runs his show very differently from the way Mr. Hamill runs ours, and everyone is afraid that all the customers will want to see them instead of us."

"Oh. Well I don't think that will happen Mama. I saw the trucks for Haly's this morning, and they don't even know what a circus is supposed to look like!" James shared all his observations from earlier with his mother, and for some reason she boxed his ears.

He decided to keep his mouth shut after that.

* * *

The next couple of days were horrendous for poor James. It wasn't just his parents who were worried about competition; every act at Hamill's had its analogue at Haly's. For Mal the Magnificent elephant trainer, Haly's had a small-scale zoo run by a feisty girl who could have been a fashion model. Mr. Hamill was proudly billing the latest addition to their freak show, a glass eater, and Haly's had an Oddities and Curiosities exhibition to rival PT Barnum in his heyday.

And then there was the difference in their ringmasters. Haly's was a well-dressed, stout little man with a booming voice, and they had Lloyd, a cantankerous old man who did have a strong voice when he wasn't coughing his lungs up.

The only thing, it turned out, that Hamill's had that Haly's didn't was a child star. Hamill had the Flying Jesses: Frank (Franco), Helen (Elena), and James (Giovanni). The Flying Graysons, though inarguably more talented than the Jesses, lacked a cute little boy doing death defying stunts.

If James had had his way though, the Flying Jesses wouldn't have the cute little boy either. He hated practicing and performing with his parents on the best of days (he got yelled at a lot, and his dad always dropped him), but with everyone nervous over Haly's, and sure that James was their only advantage, the pressure on him to do well increased to an intolerable level. If he so much as hinted that he needed a break his father slapped him.

By the third day of this, James was so scared of setting his parents off that he wet himself on the tightrope rather than ask to go to the bathroom.

James woke bright and early Friday morning. Hamill's was going to open Saturday afternoon, which meant that this was their last day of practice. This also meant another long day of beatings and exhaustion. James knew he had no chance of making it through if he didn't get up before his parents and find breakfast somewhere.

He got dressed and ran over to Lady Maera's vardo where, if he wasn't mistaken, he could smell potato pancakes on her griddle. James fixed a charming gap toothed smile on his face and knocked on her door.

Lady Maera appeared, curly orange hair hidden by a heavy plaid scarf and wearing a silk bathrobe over her flannel pajamas. "You _again_? Don't your parents ever feed you anymore?"

"You said last time that home cooked food is meant to be shared. I'm helping you by giving you someone to share it with. I'm just thoughtful like that."

With a pleased smirk, the fortune teller stepped aside so James could climb up into her home. Her reading table was already set for two, with a plastic protector under the setting clearly meant for James (he'd stained one of her best velvet spread cloths at their last dinner).

"I had been hoping that the next time I shared my home and cooking with a handsome Italian that he might be a bit taller."

"I'm doing my best," James pouted. "Mama says I'm sprouting like a weed. I'm gonna need a new costume soon."

Lady Maera ruffled his hair, but she was forgiven for her demeaning behavior by her next action, which was to heap a sizable portion of potato pancakes onto his plate. His opinion of Lady Maera increased further when she handed him a bottle of ketchup.

"Eat slowly Jamey. Little boy, you eat as though you've never seen food before." She let out a soft sigh. "Or as though you're not sure of seeing it again."

"It's very good," James choked out, spraying crumbs from his full mouth.

Lady Maera smiled at the compliment, but it didn't meet her eyes. After they finished their breakfast she made James a cup of cocoa. He drained half of it, then did her dishes and cleaned off her griddle while she started fixing her hair and makeup.

"It's so good to have a man in the vardo," she said, eyeing the cleaned kitchenette with approval.

"You can keep me if you want," James offered. Lady Maera laughed and ruffled his hair again, but he'd been offering in full sincerity. He liked the pretty fortune teller, and not just for her good cooking.

Of course, even Mal the Magnificently soused elephant trainer would have been better than Frank Jesse the short tempered.

James was finishing off his cocoa, Lady Maera joining him with a cup of tea, when they heard Helen screaming for her son.

Heaving a reluctant sigh, James thanked Lady Maera again for breakfast and then ran off to find his mother.

"Mama, I'm right he-ow!"

Helen greeted him with a slap to the cheek. "Where have you been? I've been worried sick!"

James rubbed his cheek, thinking that she had a funny way of showing it.

"Come on Giovanni, we need to get you cleaned up."

"For what?" James asked. He always got dirty when they practiced, so he didn't see much point in washing up until after it was over.

"Because we're going out and you're not fit to be seen in public. Stop dragging your feet!"

"But Mama, where are we going?"

James couldn't remember the last time his parents had taken him anywhere; if he wanted to leave the circus he typically had to escort himself. No fear of smacks or slaps could still his questions, and finally Helen gave him an irritable answer.

"We're going to see what the other circus is like, now shut your mouth before I change my mind and lock you in the vardo!"

James' face set in a scowl. His parents were taking him to see a circus? Well whoop-dee-doo! He'd only been to one of those practically every day of his life.

Then again, if they were at the other circus then they wouldn't be practicing…

James supposed seeing their rivals couldn't hurt.

* * *

"Will ya look at that tent?" Frank Jesse said in open mouthed wonder. Helen quite literally turned her nose up at it.

"It looks gaudy to me. What do they need with a colorful mess that big? James, stay with me!" She reached out with a quickness that matched his own, and yanked James back to her side by the arm.

"But Mama, they're giving away popcorn at that stand. I want to get some."

Frank laughed. "Don't be a fool Gio. Only idiots would give away a juicy plum like popcorn. You know how much the rubes spend on…" He stopped speaking upon catching sight of a cheerful looking clown in a flowered apron handing out boxes of free popcorn to children from a pushcart.

"Here you go little boy!" The clown greeted James in a silly voice and handed him a box overflowing with fluffy white and yellow kernels. James eagerly grabbed the box and popped a handful into his mouth.

"Mm! Mama, Papa, this tastes so much better than ours!"

Once the clown was out of sight, Frank snatched the box out of James' hands, sniffed it suspiciously, and then he and Helen each took a handful.

"I think they actually use butter Frank," Helen reported.

"Huh. Suckers don't know they can cut their costs with yellow food dye. Alright, let's go inside and get this over with." He tossed the box on the ground and stomped on it as he passed.

"Hey!" James shouted. "That was mine! The clown gave it to me!"

"Shut your pie hole and get over here," Frank growled.

Seething with injustice, James followed his parents into the big top.

* * *

For only the second time in his short life, James Jesse was having a good time at the circus (the other had been when his father had gotten so drunk he'd put his tights on over his arms instead of his legs and Lloyd had tried to pass him off as a clown).

Haly's Cirus was superior to Hamill's in every way possible. The performers seemed happy, and not in that fake way everyone was when they were "on" at Hamill's. James managed to get his hands on another popcorn, and he was able to fool a confused woman escorting a rather large birthday party of little boys into buying him a soda, so he sat back and enjoyed the show, neither hungry nor thirsty.

He couldn't believe how funny the clowns were. James had always thought clowns were supposed to be disgruntled and scary. In fact, Frank's favorite threat was to talk about sending James off to be a clown.

"Giovanni, pay attention," Helen hissed, elbowing him in the ribs.

"Huh?" James turned away from the clowns he'd been watching and followed his mother's gaze. The lights were dimming, gradually drawing everyone's attention to the top of the tent. "Oh wow."

A handsome man and a beautiful woman in matching costumes were standing on a little platform near the top of the tent. It was so high up that James had to tilt his head back to see, and his mouth hung open in wonder.

To him, it was a trick just to stand on that little piece of wood so far from the ground. But they had trapeze equipment set up!

The Jesses wanted James to be a trapeze artist, but no amount of beatings could get him to comply. He just wasn't brave enough to be that high up without even a tightrope under his feet, especially if Frank was the one to catch him.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," the ringmaster announced in a booming voice that startled James into spilling some of his popcorn. "Haly's Circus is proud to present those magnificent wonders, the artists of the air, the first family of the trapeze, the Flying Graysons!"

The audience erupted in applause (James was smacked upside the head when he tried to join in), and the picture perfect couple waved at the crowd with dazzling smiles on their gorgeous faces. Then they began their act.

James was spellbound. He'd never seen such graceful performers in all his life. He was completely caught up in their show, even before they dropped the safety net. As he watched them soar and flip, invigorated by each motion and always landing perfectly in the other's strong grip, he felt an ache in his chest. He couldn't explain it at first. After all, he was enjoying himself; the show was as astounding as the billing had promised and he had snacks (the company could have been better though).

Then the man made a particularly nice looking catch, his wife holding a position that made her look like a ballerina, like she was dancing on air as they swayed back to the platform, and James understood the ache as the deepest longing he'd ever felt. The Jesses would never be that. They weren't happy. He'd never trust his father enough to attempt anything half as daring, even with a net.

"Will you shut your mouth? You'd think you'd never seen an acrobat before instead of being one yourself," Helen sniffed.

"They're flashy, I'll give 'em that. But some family. There's just two of them," Frank grumbled. "First family my hairy Italian ass. We're the first family. We're the ones with the kid." He clapped James on the back and the boy dropped his soda.

"Oops."

"Even if he's clumsy, we got one and they don't," Frank said with grim determination, trying to convince himself his child was worth raising.

The Graysons sailed back onto their platform and the audience went nuts with cheers. James leaned as far forward as he could, getting out of his mother's reach so he could clap for them too, Helen grabbing for his hands all the while.

Mrs. Grayson blew a kiss in their general direction as she climbed down the ladder and James imagined that it was meant for him. He touched his cheek with a dreamy look on his face.

The ringmaster was waiting for them at the bottom. He handed the microphone to Mrs. Grayson, tipped his top hat, and then stepped aside.

Mrs. Jesse rolled her eyes, and muttered her opinion of a performer's wife addressing the audience.

"Thank you so much everyone! You are truly an amazing crowd, and a pleasure to perform for!"

The audience cheered again, and this time Frank pinned James to his seat with one beefy arm to keep him from applauding. He had to struggle out of his father's grip to hear what Mrs. Grayson had to say next.

"As you might have noticed, we call the Flying Graysons a family act. Three short years ago, we welcomed the first, but hopefully not the last, addition to our family. I hope you'll all give as wonderful a welcome to my son as you did to me and my husband John. This is his first performance guys, so let's make it memorable!"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Frank's profanity was lost to all but their nearest neighbors as a clown led an adorable little toddler out to meet his parents. The audience positively melted with coos and "Aaaaws!"

Helen dropped her head into her hands. "We're finished! He doesn't even need to _do_ anything! He's ten times cuter than James has ever been! Why did the Lord curse me with such an ugly child?"

"Hey!" James scowled, and decided he didn't like the stupid baby.

In truth, the toddler didn't look like he could do much. They set up a miniature version of his parents' platform for him, with a few swings, a balance beam, and a tightrope that was only two feet off the highly padded ground. Clearly, baby Grayson was a wuss.

Mrs. Grayson handed the microphone to her husband so she could place her son on the balance beam. James still caught her encouraging whisper, barely amplified by the speakers.

"Go ahead sweetheart."

The little boy took a few measured steps out on the balance beam, then faced the audience with a bashful smile and gave a shy wave. The adults in the crowd responded with immediate aaw-ing and more cooing, but the kids generally seemed to agree that a baby on a balance beam was boring.

Then the toddler finished the balance beam with cartwheels that just shouldn't have been physically possible given how top heavy he was. He did a hand stand and walked like that over to the swings.

James got another whap upside the head. "You never did that when you were his age!" Frank hissed.

Baby Grayson gave a pretty impressive routine with his miniature equipment, and when he was carried offstage by his proud parents he was all smiles. With the way the crowd cheered for him, it would be hard not to be.

James had never gotten cheers like that.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, let's hear it again for little Dickie Grayson! And that won't be the last you see of him!"

James burst into laughter. Finally he understood. The Graysons were more talented acrobats than the Jesses, and they must be better actors too, because it had really seemed like they loved their son.

But if that were true then they wouldn't have named him Dickie.

Clearly the Flying Graysons were more like the Flying Jesses than they let on. At least, that's what James told himself that night when he curled up with his blanket and pillow on the cold, hard floor of the vardo, smarting from the shiner Frank had given him.

* * *

_A/N: Hope you like the story so far, and as usual, reviews will be greatly appreciated :)_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

By the time James finished rehearsing with his family for the big opening day, he had several more colorful bruises to accent his black eye. Lady Maera pulled him into her vardo to cover what she could with makeup.

"Try not to sweat all this off again while you're in the limelight, alright my little man?"

"What's the point?" James grumbled. "No one's going to come to our cruddy circus with Haly's here. _I_ don't even want to go to our cruddy circus." He'd never known to be ashamed of his work before, but now that James had seen Haly's he was mortified to be a part of Hamill's.

Lady Maera shook her head, and it occurred to James that she'd probably felt the same way for a long time.

"You're a good boy James. I know life is rough for you right now, but it won't always be that way." She picked up a big poofy brush and started patting powder onto James' face. He scrunched up his nose and tried not to sneeze. "You're too talented for the Flying Jesses and much too clever to stay with your mother and father. I know someday you'll leave us all behind for the big time, and I only hope that when you do, you remember the old lady who used to give you potato pancakes when she was young and pretty."

James frowned, and she lowered the brush with a sad smile on her face. "But you're talented too. If I leave, why don't you just come with me?"

"I've made my home here Jamey. It's just not in the cards for me. But don't let that hold you back. You're really gonna be something someday kid. I've Seen it."

James left her vardo feeling conflicted (and still trying not to sneeze). Now that he'd seen a circus other than his own he did want to leave Hamill's, badly. But he'd also realized that Lady Maera was the only friend he'd ever had, and leaving her behind was a painful thought.

He didn't have long to brood on thoughts, painful or otherwise. As soon as he was in his tights his mother yanked him out to the big top. She kept fussing with him; combing his hair and wiping his cheek and complaining about the way Lady Maera had done his makeup. Consequently, James didn't have a moment of peace until he was leaving his mother to climb up the ladder to the platform where the high wire waited.

As usual, James felt a plunging sensation in the pit of his stomach when he looked down. His body vividly remembered Frank bouncing the line, trying a new trick on sudden inspiration without telling his son of the change, or just plain getting distracted and dropping him. James closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and prepared himself for the act.

"Ladies and…_hurkh_-Ladies and gentlemen!" Lloyd broke off into a hacking cough, and it took him a moment to finish his speech. He rasped it out as quickly as possible, clearly afraid of being cut off by more coughing fits. James could hear his father complaining about the ringmaster's three packs a day from the platform on the other side of the tightrope.

"Hamill'ssproudtapresenth'wondersofth'airth'FlyingJesses. Urgh…"

One spotlight shone on James, the other on his father, and the music picked up. He fixed a gleaming smile on his face and waved at the crowd, surprised at its size. He couldn't really see them with the light in his eyes, but there might have been thirty people clapping.

James imagined it was the roar that had greeted the Flying Graysons and used it to energize himself.

He stepped out onto the wire and right into his performance persona. With an audience present, small though it was, his father had to keep his temper in check and consequently James could focus on his own footwork instead of the proximity of his father's hands. He played with the routine, pretending to lose balance and then easily righting himself with a playful smile and a wink.

Frank was about a foot away at that point. "Stick to the script you little brat," he ground out around his own toothy smile.

"The audience liked it Pop," James answered without moving his lips.

He leapt onto Frank's shoulders and stood upright with his feet flat either side of his father's head while Frank continued along the rope at a hectic pace. When James jumped down, Helen swooped in on a trapeze swing and pulled Frank into the air. With the way the lighting worked, it was an unexpected move, and would have been the highlight of their act if they ever pulled it off.

As usual, Frank's foot tugged the line, James lost his balance, and he fell, plummeting to the net with a shriek of terror.

James curled into a ball, pale and shaking. Hitting the net always hurt, but it was nothing to what would come that night. Even though it was his dad that messed up, James would be blamed and James would miss supper and James wouldn't be allowed his pillow and blanket and James would get all manner of new bruises.

"Hey, kid, get off the net before the lights get back this way!" Lloyd hissed. James dutifully heaved his aching body to the edge of the net, landed gracelessly on the ground, and shuffled off to the wings to wait for his parents.

* * *

"What the hell kind of performance was that you little beast?" Frank Jesse greeted his son with a roar and a backhand that sent him to the dirt. He followed it up with a kick to the ribs.

James screamed and turned on the waterworks. There were still some customers lingering on the grounds, and Papa Jesse beating Hamill's only child star wouldn't be good for business. If he was loud enough someone might actually make Frank stop.

"Frank, calm down! He still needs to perform for the rest of the week!" Helen snapped. It earned her a backhand, killing any motherly instincts to protect her child that may have arisen.

"He's just gonna fall the rest of the week like he always does! You no good useless little bastard! You're not half as cute as the Grayson brat! They're rolling in the dough and what do you bring us? Nothing. Just another mouth to feed!" Each angry sentence was punctuated with a hit.

James kept up a continuous wail, cowering and trying to protect his head with his skinny arms. It soon became clear that no one was coming to his aid, but by that point he couldn't have stopped yelling if he tried. He was already too worked up.

Frank yanked James to his knees by his wavy blond hair and leaned over so that they were eye to eye. "You fall again tomorrow, boy I'm going to kill you. Now get out of my sight."

James ran out of the tent as fast as his legs could manage. Frank had obviously never followed through on that oft-repeated threat, but it never stopped terrifying James with each new repetition.

* * *

No amount of makeup would cover James' bruises the next day. The freshest ones were only slightly swollen and purple, but the others were dark and ugly, and the one above his eye was a dark plum with sickening yellow in the center. Mr. Hamill himself inspected James, and ultimately declared him unfit to be seen. He was to remain locked in the vardo to rest with an icepack over his eye, with hopes that the swelling would go down soon enough for him to "earn his keep".

As soon as the cheerful music announced the start of the show, James picked the lock to the door and propped it open. He had no intentions of going anywhere, but it was sweltering in the vardo, and James had broken their only fan when his papa had clubbed him on the head with it.

He took out his comics, propped himself up in his parents' bed, and dutifully plopped the icepack over his eye.

To his great surprise, about a half hour into the show there was a rapping on the open door. James jumped, dropping his comic and sending the icepack skittering across the floorboards.

A pretty woman with shiny dark hair had stuck her head in the doorway. It only took James a second to place her. "Mrs. Grayson! What are you doing here?" A beautiful star like her didn't belong in James' dismal reality any more than he belonged in hers.

"Hey there sweetheart. You recognize me, huh?" She straightened up and smiled at him. Her smile was as beautiful as the rest of her, and it made his cheeks warm for some reason.

"You're only the best most beautiful acrobat I've ever seen. Course I recognize you. What are you doing at our circus?"

"You're one of the Flying Jesses, right?" she asked.

He nodded. "My name's James."

"It's very nice to meet you James. My name is Mary."

"Okay Mrs. Grayson."

Laughing, she held out her hand, and helped him jump down out of the vardo and into the open sunlight. Mr. Grayson was standing a few yards away with their son on his shoulders. It was weird to see them all in normal clothes when they'd worn their costumes like second skins.

"Goodness!" Mary Grayson clapped a hand over her mouth, startled by James' appearance now that he was out of the dimly lit vardo.

Mr. Grayson stepped forward, wearing a grim expression. "Are you alright son?"

"Course I am," James lied. "I had an accident last night. Mal the Magnificent was looking the other way and I wanted to see the elephants up close, because I'm so curious and all, so I hopped into their pen. Guess I got a bit too near. Elsie smacked me with her trunk." James rubbed at his eye and gave them a well-practiced embarrassed smile that usually made adults melt. "Mama and Papa gave me the day off to relax."

"I should hope so," Mrs. Grayson said, still looking worried. Mr. Grayson was the one troubling James. He didn't look like he'd bought the story at all.

"So how can I help you folks?"

Mrs. Grayson smiled at him, and James breathed a sigh of relief. It looked like she'd let him get away with changing the subject.

"We were hoping we could talk to your mom and dad, but I guess they're already working, huh? Our show doesn't start for another few hours."

"They'll probably get back around the time yours starts," James said with a nod. "I can tell them you were by though. What did you want to talk to them about?" He couldn't imagine what the Graysons wanted with the Jesses (unless they'd been grossly misinformed and believed that just because they were both circus acrobats that they had something in common) and was dying to know.

"Well, when we heard that there was another outfit in town with a family of acrobats, we wanted to meet you and see if you wanted a playdate with our son. With all the traveling we do, it's really hard to find friends for Dickie," Mary explained. "You look like you're a little old to play with a three year old, but would you like to come into the city with us sometime anyway? We've only got a night show tomorrow, so we're going to spend the day in the city and take Dickie to the children's museum."

James stared at her in wonder. He had no idea what a children's museum was, but he figured it must be marvelous if the Graysons were going to it. "Th-that sounds wonderful ma'am, but I don't know if my parents'll let me. We hafta work really hard on our act."

"It can't hurt to ask," Mrs. Grayson said brightly. "What's say we visit again tonight after we're done with our show? Your parents should be back by then, right? Maybe we could all have dinner together."

"I-I don't know," James mumbled. He sincerely doubted his parents would be pleased about a dinner invitation from their rivals. Then again, they hadn't exactly met the Flying Graysons, and they seemed really nice, so maybe they were nice enough to overpower Helen and Frank's meanness. "I'll ask them."

"Great!" Mrs. Grayson beamed at him, and he felt his cheeks get hot again.

John shifted the toddler down from his shoulders to his hip, and then settled him onto the ground. Dickie toddled over to his mother and hugged her knees, watching James shyly. "Sweetie, come on over and say hi to James."

Obediently, Dickie toddled over to James and James felt another stab of envy; the kid had really cool sneakers that lit up when he walked. The kid was coming across as way too shy for a performer. He had his chubby little fist stuck in his mouth, but he was watching James with big, curious blue eyes.

James felt his lip curl against his will. With conscious effort, he schooled his features into something more polite. "Hi."

"H-Hi Jamsh," Dickie chirped out, with a sweet little voice that would have perfectly suited a child actor. "You're a-a acrobat too?"

"Yup." 'With four years of experience on you, you little brat,' he thought.

"Well, we'd better get going. We'll see you later James." John took Dickie's hand, Mary fell into step beside them, and with one last wave the young family took their leave.

James jumped back onto the bed with his icepack, hopeful about his chances of getting a day out with a loving family. If he played his cards right, he'd be able to arrange it so that the Graysons took him along without his parents. That thought should have made him happy, but it didn't.

He couldn't shake a sense of injustice that would snowball into a true rage if he didn't keep a lid on it.

Just why in the world did Dickie get to have perfect parents while James was stuck with the Jesses? What had he done to deserve all the black eyes and turned ankles and stinging cuts? Why didn't he get to be chubby and healthy from regular meals? Why was he so intimately familiar with a belt on his skin and a boot to the ribs? Until recently, he'd never suspected that parents were any different from his own, but now he knew that there were mommies and daddies who called their kids sweetheart and carried them so they wouldn't get tired and even found them friends so they could take them out to something called a museum.

He'd never wanted anything more in his life, and it made him positively loathe Dickie Grayson.

* * *

Meanwhile, though Mary had hidden her emotions better than John, her misgivings about James Jesse were no less sincere than her husband's. Every step taken away from the lonely and bruised little boy broke her heart. "John, we have to go back to him."

"I know," John said heavily. "But I don't know how much we can help him."

"You're s'posed to help people who need it," Dickie chimed in.

John smiled. "I know Dickie, and we'll do our best."

"Why does Jamsh need help? Izzy hurt? Is that why his eye was all yellow and poofy?"

John traded a look with Mary. He'd been hoping to have this conversation away from Dickie's curious ears and vivid imagination.

But they had to do something. The hunger and longing in James' eyes had first caught Mary's notice when she'd seen him in the stands during their performance. She'd been surprised to find that same little boy sitting in the vardo, and sickened to find her suspicions about him confirmed when she'd counted the bruises on his tiny body.

It was a testament to James' spirit that he was still a precocious and happy little boy. There was still so much spirit in him. They had to save him somehow. The Graysons would never be able to live with themselves if they left James to the whims of his abusive parents.

"We don't know anything for sure sweetie," Mary said carefully, addressing her son. "But we think James is getting hurt pretty badly and we're going to help him if we can."

Dickie nodded approvingly. "If he's hurd then he's probably sad. We should get him ice cream. That would work."

Mary ruffled his hair. "That's a great idea! We'll get you both ice cream and then you can make friends."

Dickie seemed satisfied with their plan, but the adults felt it could use some work. They decided to talk it over after Dickie went to bed.

* * *

"M-Mama, P-papa? How was…um, how was the show?"

"What do you care? You're not the one who had to bust your hump out there," Frank snapped. He plopped down onto the bed and started scratching his stomach. Helen was sitting in front of the vanity taking pins out of her hair.

"Did you keep the ice on your eye while we were gone Giovanni? It still looks swollen," she said with a frown. "I don't know if we can let you have another day off to rest. Mr. Hamill wasn't happy about this you know."

"Oh…" James bit his lip and looked down at his feet. The next day's show was supposed to run when the Graysons wanted to go to the children's museum. If his parents needed him in the show then he wouldn't be allowed to go. He probably shouldn't bother bringing it up.

Such was his desire though, that James pressed on. "Um, um, while you guys were gone that family from the other circus came by. They wanted to talk to you."

"The Flying Graysons came here?" Frank bellowed. "What in the world were those no good pompous jerks doing in our vardo?"

"You let them in here Giovanni?" Helen asked.

James quickly took a few cautious steps back, putting as much space as possible between him and his parents. "We talked outside. Th-they thought I might, um, they didn't know I was older than Dickie and they thought we could, like play. They're coming back to talk to you guys. They're really nice."

Helen snorted and rolled her eyes. "Nice. Listen Gio, they're _actors_, just like us. We all perform. No one is as goody two shoes as they pretend to be, so don't get taken in like some rube."

"Well they seemed really nice. I don't think I'd mind playing with their kid sometime. I've never played with another circus kid before." In truth, James had never played with another kid _period_. They'd never stopped anywhere long enough for him to get the chance.

Helen started brushing out her hair, a sarcastic little smile on her face all the while, and Frank continued to lounge in bed scratching at himself. James decided to wait for the Graysons outside of the vardo. He jumped down the steps and ran over to a little patch of dirt amongst the grass of the field, picked up a stick, and started drawing with it.

By the time the Graysons came back he was lying on the grass watching the clouds turn colors with the setting sun. It was very peaceful, and as he watched them approach, he pretended that they were his real family coming to rescue him from Frank and Helen.

That would have been really neat.

"Hi James! Did you talk to your parents?" Mary called once she was close enough. Dickie was walking between his parents this time, and he waved excitedly as soon as he saw James.

James waved back, still envious of Dickie's parents (and his sneakers), but not as angry about it as before. "Kinda. I don't think I'm gonna be able to go. We've got a show tomorrow and if I'm all better then they're gonna need me."

Mary chewed her lip. "That is a problem. Hm."

"James, would you mind keeping an eye on Dickie while we go talk to them?" John asked.

"Sure."

The Graysons walked up to the vardo and knocked on the door. James remained sitting in the grass, Dickie standing nearby, but both boys watched the vardo with rapt attention.

"What, what is i-oh. Why you must be the Graysons. James mentioned you'd dropped by," Helen greeted. She was wearing her only nice house dress, and she'd changed her makeup and styled her hair in perfect imitation of a housewife. Normally she wore a silk nightdress, a pair of fuzzy slippers, and (if she was going to be in view of anyone but her husband and child) a bathrobe after a performance. It occurred to James that she probably was still performing. "Come on inside."

"Thank you very much," Mary returned, with a smile that was almost natural.

Dickie sat down next to James as soon as the door to the vardo closed behind his parents. He had his hand in his mouth again. For a few long minutes the two boys just stared at each other. They didn't have any toys (James thought it was a bad idea to play with the stick now that a three year old was present), and they had nothing in common. James didn't really know how to keep an eye on the kid, but he was determined to do his best.

Finally, Dickie stopped chewing on his finger, but he kept watching James with innocently wide eyes. "Does it hurt?"

"Does what hurt?" James asked.

"That." Dickie pointed to his own eye, and James got the message.

"Not right now. It hurt when I got it though, and it does if I touch it."

"Oh." Dickie frowned. "How'd you get it? And all the other ones?"

James crossed his arms over his chest. "Don't ask stupid questions. Stupid baby."

"I'm not stupid! And I'm not a baby. I'm this many." He held up four fingers. Rolling his eyes, James pushed his ring finger down.

"You're this many, you stupid baby. I'm this many," here James held up seven fingers, "And I know a lot more than you."

"I'll know as much as you when I'm that many. More'n you, I bet."

"I doubt it."

"Well I will."

They went back to staring at each other in silence, though their expressions were a bit less friendly than before. A little more time passed, and then they jumped and turned towards the vardo.

Neither boy could understand what was being said, but they heard raised voices. Then they heard the sound of something porcelain shattering. Dickie's lower lip started trembling. "What's going on? Why are they yelling?"

"I dunno." James held the toddler's hand. "It's okay though, because your mom and dad are in there and they'll come and get you if anything happens. You'll be okay." He probably wouldn't though.

"I don't like it when people yell like that."

"Me either."

The door slammed open and Mary Grayson came flying down the steps, biting her lip, dark eyes flashing, but otherwise composed. John was just behind her, expression cool but hands balled into fists at his sides.

"And another thing!" Helen yelled from the doorway. "You think you can tell me how to raise my son? Keep yours alive for a few more years and then get back to me! You throw him into your act already with those nasty tricks, you're gonna regret it when he falls and kills himself! He's just a baby!"

Mary turned on her heel, but John grabbed her arm. "Hon, pick your battles. Remember, we agreed to pick our battles," he murmured.

Lips pressed in a thin line, Mary nodded. "Helen, I'm sorry we couldn't see eye to eye on this. Have a nice life."

James' heart sank. That didn't sound like something someone would say if they were going to take you to a children's museum the next day.

John and Mary walked over to the two boys, and John knelt down to pick Dickie up. He saw the crestfallen expression on James' face and bracingly patted his arm. James was startled when John spoke to him in a low voice that wouldn't carry to the vardo. "We'll be back for you in the morning." Then he pressed a finger to his lips and winked.

James winked back, not sure exactly what was going to happen but perfectly willing to hope for the best.

The Graysons took their leave, with James watching them until they were out of sight. It was dark by that point, with a bright, almost full moon. Helen was still seething in the doorway when James climbed back into the vardo.

"Imagine them. Trying to take you off for the day just to keep a brat half your age company. Some people have to work for a living."

James didn't say anything, sure she was baiting him. He sat down on the floor by his parents' bed and waited to see if they'd give him his pillow and blanket for the night. Helen crouched down in front of him, took his chin in her hand, and started turning his face all different angles, examining him. "The bruises look better. I think you'll be okay for the act tomorrow. All you needed was one day. They really weren't that bad. You're okay Giovanni. You're a strong little boy."

"Sure Mama. Whatever you say."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

When morning dawned on the various vardos and tents of Hamill's circus only one of their performers was awake. James hadn't ever fallen into a true sleep that night, being much too distracted with anticipation for the morning. He wasn't really sure what the Graysons were planning, but it had to be better than another day with his parents.

James sat on the floor and watched his parents sleep for a little while. His papa took up most of the bed, both because he was larger than Helen and also because he sprawled out in his sleep. Helen was tucked into a corner, doing her best to touch her husband as little as possible even in sleep. They looked miserably unhappy. It made James wonder what they dreamt about.

After that sad reflection, James pulled on his sneakers and a sweater (old, faded things, and his sneakers didn't light up), and then he carefully climbed out of the vardo without waking his parents.

He sat on the patch of grass again and waited for something to happen. The sun climbed higher in the sky, and eventually James saw a man approaching him from a distance. He waved, and Mr. Grayson waved back.

"Hi James. Have you had any breakfast yet?" Mr. Grayson asked, once he was close enough to talk to James without shouting. James appreciated that. He didn't like it when people shouted at him.

"Nope. No one else is awake yet."

"I figured that would be the case." Mr. Grayson sat down next to James. He had a backpack with him. He unzipped it and pulled out a bag of muffins and two bottles of chocolate milk.

James eagerly accepted a chocolate chip muffin to go with his milk. He ate furiously, but stopped halfway through his muffin. Mr. Grayson had only taken a few bites of his, and he was watching James eat with sad eyes. His eyes were the same light blue as Dickie's.

"Um…you said yesterday that you were coming back for me. What does that mean?" James asked.

"Is there anything you want it to mean?"

James frowned. He wanted…he _hoped_ it meant that the Graysons were going to take him away. Not just to the children's museum, not just for one day, but forever. He wanted to be a part of their show, and more importantly, he wanted to ride on John's shoulders and have Mary brush her hand through his hair the way they did with Dickie.

But it wasn't safe to say any of that, so James only looked down at his muffin and mumbled, "I dunno."

"James…" Mr. Grayson tilted his face up gently by the chin, an encouraging smile mixing oddly with his sad blue eyes. "It's okay. I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Can you tell me a little bit about yourself though? How did you really get that bruise on your eye? I think we both know that it didn't come from an elephant's trunk."

James flinched away from him. "I'm not supposed to talk about that."

"Why not? Did someone tell you not to?"

"No, but…" Something occurred to James. He wasn't supposed to talk about it because parents weren't supposed to hit their kids.

Parents weren't supposed to hit their kids. James felt like a weight had been lifted from him. He'd been protecting his parents by lying for years, and he didn't have to anymore. He never should have done it to begin with, because _they_ were wrong, not him.

"Mr. Grayson, if I tell you what really happened can you help me?"

"That's why I'm here," he answered. "Go ahead James. Tell me everything."

James took a nervous look over his shoulder at the vardo. His parents wouldn't wake up for a few more hours, but the other performers would and someone might hear what he was saying. "We should go somewhere else first."

John nodded. "That's probably a good idea." He took another muffin out of the paper bag, handed it to James, and then zipped his backpack back up and slung it over his shoulders. When he stood up he reached out his hand, and James took it. They started walking across the grass together, heading for the city. James chewed on the muffin and tried not to think about what his parents would say when they woke up and found out he was gone.

* * *

Children's museums, it turned out, were big buildings where kids went just to have fun. James had never imagined such a place could exist. There were water wheels and train sets and ropes and swings and instruments and more kids than he'd ever seen in his life.

And he didn't have to steal anything the entire day. John and Mary bought him souvenirs and they fed him lunch, and he didn't even have to ask. It was the best day of his life.

It looked like a relatively normal day in the life of Dickie Grayson though. He just politely thanked his parents anytime they did anything for him, then toddled off to play some more or eat his snacks. After a few hours, James started toning down the heaps of praise and thanks he was giving the Graysons any time they offered him something.

Even though he was having the best day of his life, James started to worry the later in the day it got. When Mary called for him and Dickie to come over and put on their jackets, he felt like his insides were twisting up, and when they walked through the big glass doors that brought them out onto the street he started crying.

"Jamey, what's wrong?" Mary asked. She bent down in front of him and wiped his cheeks with her thumb. "Sweetheart, are you okay?"

"I don't wanna go back home!" he wailed.

Mary looked up at her husband, an anguished expression on her pretty face, and James felt even worse for having put it there. He burst into sobs and before he knew it he'd been scooped up into Mary's arms and she was stroking his hair, just as though he were Dickie. James snuggled against her and cried. "I wish I was your son instead," he choked out. John reached over and rubbed a circle on his back.

Dickie grabbed onto his dad's pants. "Daddy, Daddy. I thought we were gonna get ice cream so he wouldn't be sad anymore."

Still cradling James in her arms, Mary looked up at John. "That's not a bad idea. It'll give us a chance to sit down and talk with him."

John nodded. "Okay. James, calm down, it's alright. We're going to get you some ice cream and then we'll finish that conversation we started this morning at breakfast, okay champ?"

James' sobs quieted into whimpers, and he nodded. Mary wiped his tear stained cheeks with a tissue from her purse, and then the little family went in search of an ice cream shop.

They found one a block away. John asked the boys what they wanted, and then Mary herded them to a booth in the back. She taught them a silly song while they waited for John to come over with their sundaes.

The boys happily started shoveling ice cream into their mouths. James was still worried about the eventual confrontation with his parents, but it wasn't a consuming dread anymore. He couldn't find the words to describe it, he only knew that he felt good with the Graysons, like nothing bad could happen to him as long as they were there. It wasn't at all familiar, but he liked it.

Dickie put his spoon down and smiled at James. "Now you're a'posed to make friends with me."

"Oh. Do I have to do anything?"

"Nope."

"Okay. I guess we're friends then."

For some reason, Mary found that hilarious. She reached across the table and brushed James' hair back from his eyes. "You're a funny little guy, you know that?"

"Lady Maera says that sometimes," James said. "She's the fortune teller at our circus. She's my other friend."

"Do you have a lot of friends at your circus James?" Mary asked.

He shook his head. "Just Lady Maera, and she says I'm going to leave and be a big star, but she can't come with me. I wish she would though." He looked down at his hands and frowned, feeling like he might start crying again. "I don't want to talk about Lady Maera anymore."

"That's okay, you don't have to if you don't want to sweetheart," Mary assured him.

"We do need to talk about your parents and your circus though," John said. "James, do you like your circus?"

He shook his head emphatically but still didn't look up at the Graysons.

"I like your wagons. They're neat. We've got trucks instead," Dickie said, throwing in his two cents.

Mary smiled at her son. "That's right Dickie. We've got big trucks with big huge wheels, right?"

He nodded. "Bigger n'me."

John kept his eyes on James. "What about your parents James? Do you like living with them?"

Again, James shook his head, but he was slower about it. "They're not so bad most of the time but…but sometimes they…" He couldn't force the words out.

"James, it is really important that you answer me. Are they the reason you have the bruises? You already told me it wasn't the elephant. Just finish your story."

James pressed his lips together, swallowed, and then finally looked up and met John's eyes. "Papa did it. He does it every time anyone messes up the act, even if it's him. And he throws me down a lot and he drops me when we're up in the air, and sometimes he kicks me or hits me with his belt, and one time he hit me so hard that I fell asleep and didn't wake up for a long time, and when I did I was sick so I threw up and then Mama shrieked and he hit her too."

Once he'd started James had a hard time stopping. It was a good thing they were in the back of the ice cream place, because if anyone else had been listening besides the Graysons, James was sure he would have been in a lot of trouble. As it was, they only listened to him with sad looks on their faces. Mary squeezed his hand, John nodded encouragingly, and Dickie scooped the whipped cream and the cherry off of his sundae and put it on James'.

It took a long time, but eventually James ran out of horrible things to say. He was shaking all over. He'd never done anything like it before, and even though he was terrified of what would happen now that he'd told all those secrets, he was also relieved. They weren't just his anymore. Now the Graysons knew too.

"Oh sweetheart, come here." Mary opened her arms, and James ran over to her side of the booth, jumped in her lap, and got the biggest hug of his life.

"Can I stay with you and be your kid instead? I know your circus is better than mine, but it's not my fault. I'll work really hard until I'm good enough for Haly's. I just wanna stay with you guys instead."

He didn't think it was possible, but Mary squeezed him even harder. "I could never give you back to those monsters."

"Mary…" John started, but stopped at the look Dickie gave him. The little boy was staring at his father with innocent confusion that was verging on distrust. Slowly, he scooped another spoonful of ice cream for himself, still watching his father. With a sigh, John tried again. "Just don't promise anything yet. We still need to talk to the Jesses."

James clung to Mrs. Grayson for all he was worth, tiny shoulders shaking. Mary stared at her husband in horror. She mouthed 'do you see this?'

He nodded, showing signs of a heavy heart.

"Hey, Jamsh?" Dickie chirped. "If you're not gonna eat your sundae, can I have my cherry back?"

* * *

The Graysons had borrowed a minivan from one of their friends for their family day out. They drove to the western side of the city, and when they approached the circus grounds it was decided that Mary and Dickie would wait in the van while John and James went to talk to the Jesses. James thought it was a good idea. He didn't want the baby to hear his parents yelling either.

By the time the van stopped James was shaking with fear again. Then John took his hand, gave it a squeeze, and he felt a bit braver.

They heard Mrs. Jesse well before they saw her. She was running between the vardos screaming for James while Mr. Jesse sat in the doorway, scratching his stomach and grumbling about what he was going to do to his boy the next time he saw him.

James stopped in his tracks, but John squeezed his hand again and after that he was able to keep going.

"P-papa, I'm back now. You can tell Mama to stop looking for me."

Frank narrowed his eyes at James, then turned a look of utter loathing John's way. He returned Frank's gaze with cool detachment, without so much as a flinch.

"Helen! Your good for nothing, ungrateful little beast is back, and he brought trash with him!"

Helen stomped over to them, and flew into a rage as soon as she saw James. "Just where have you been, you ungrateful brat? You've got some nerve! Who told you you could run off without telling us anything and scaring us half to death?"

James grabbed onto John's hand with both of his. He knew that if Mr. Grayson hadn't been standing there that he'd probably be bleeding by now.

John seemed aware of that as well. "He's been safe with us all day. My wife and I never let him out of our sight."

"Well you're kidnappers, is what you are! We never said you could take him!"

"I know," John said.

"We oughta call the police on you!" Helen threatened. "I think I will. I'm gonna go to a phone, and call the police, and tell them that you kidnapped my son!"

"Well I've got some things I could tell the police myself."

Helen stopped in her tracks, and suddenly Frank was much more interested in their conversation as well. "What?"

"I think the police would be very interested to find out how James got all those bruises. They'd probably like to know about the child labor laws your employer is violating, and I'm sure they'd be fascinated by the fact that this child has never spent a day in school and that you're not homeschooling him to make up for it."

Helen glared at him. "Alright, so we'll leave the police out of this. Just let go of him and go on your way."

"Oh I don't think so." John clapped a hand on James' shoulder. "You see, when I agreed with you before, it wasn't just about taking James off to the museum without your permission. I fully intend to kidnap him from you, because you're terrible human beings and you don't deserve to be parents."

Frank jumped to his feet and started for them. "Now wait just a minute-" He was cut off by John's fist connecting with his jaw. The hit knocked him flat on the ground.

"Frank! Oh my god!" Helen bent down and placed her hand on his chest. "You're a monster! You think I'm gonna let my only baby go with you? You're crazy!"

"Lady, it's a little late to start pretending like you care about your kid. If either of you try to stop me, I'll kill you. _You're never hurting him again_, you got that?"

Frank sat up on his elbows, a dazed look on his face. "I think we oughta listen to the man."

"Frank, no!"

"C'mon Helen, he's right. We're sorry excuses for parents. Everyone knows it."

James couldn't believe his ears. He held his breath, excited but also terrified that something might happen to change everyone's minds.

Helen looked wildly between her husband and her son. Finally she turned towards James and threw her arms out. "Giovanni, my little angel…you're not really gonna leave your mama and papa for some stranger just because he took you out for the day, are you? Little angel, come here!"

James ducked behind John, shaking his head. "I don't ever want to go back here again."

"You won't have to son," John assured him.

Helen bit her fist, tears sliding down her face. "You're a monster! Fine, take the little ingrate. I hope he knows that he's ruining everything, and that his mama and papa are gonna starve to death because he decided to kill the act!"

"It's not his job to take care of you," John seethed. "Come on James, we're leaving." He put his hand on James' back and gave him a gentle nudge towards the van.

Mary was sitting in the backseat with Dickie in her lap, stroking his hair and watching them with wide, frightened eyes. John opened the backdoor and helped James up into the van, then started for the driver's side. Mary buckled Dickie back into his car seat and then joined him in the front. "Did they…?"

"It's alright Mary. I took care of it."

"They let him go?"

He nodded. "We've got another Flying Grayson."


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry for the delay. This story is not dead, RL just got in the way for a bit. Hope you guys are still reading, because the fun stuff is coming up :)_**  
**

**Chapter Four**

**Seven Years Later…**

Mary was putting away groceries when she heard the sound of footsteps thundering down the hall, heading towards the front door of her family's hotel room. There was a brief scuffle just outside the door, and when the boys burst inside James had Dick in a headlock and was giving him a noogie.

"Uncle! Jeeze Jamey, I said uncle!"

"Damn right you said uncle-"

"James…" Mary started in a warning tone.

"Sorry, sorry. Ahem, that's right you said uncle." James let his little brother go, and they both started for the kitchenette. Mary waved them right back to the doorway, where they dutifully removed their muddy sneakers and hung up their jackets.

"So how was the city?" Mary asked, turning back to the cabinets so she could put away the cereal.

"Same as it was the last time we came through Coast," James said with a shrug. He joined Mary in the kitchen and she stopped her chores so he could give her a kiss on the cheek.

Dick went to the counter and started rifling through the unpacked shopping bags, trying to figure out what he could expect for meals for the week and looking for any snacks he wanted to snag before James got to them. The teenager had a tendency to take a disproportionate amount of food when a growth spurt came on, and he always went for the iced honey buns and chips instead of the carrot sticks and mixed nuts Mary was trying to push on him.

"I was talking to Mr. Haly today. He says we can expect to be in New York for your birthdays," Mary said conversationally. By happy coincidence, Dick and James' birthdays were three days apart. The family had celebrated them together since the first year James had joined them, but now that James was a teenager Mary wanted to offer him an alternative to sharing the day with his baby brother. He hadn't bit at thirteen though, so she wasn't sure he'd want to now that he was turning fourteen either.

Dick liberated a bag of chips from the shopping bag and sat down at the counter. "Cool! Can we go to MoMA again?"

James scrunched his face up. "A museum? Again? I think we should see a show instead. Can we see a show please? Dickie picked last year."

Dick scrunched his face up. He'd decided (shortly after the family had acquired James, incidentally), that he didn't like being referred to as Dickie. "We only went to the museum for me because _you_ picked the place we went to eat. And I still think we're too old for Chuck E. Cheese."

Mary laughed. "Oh come on Dick, that was fun. And I promise you, ten is a perfectly acceptable age for a Chuck E. Cheese. Your dad taking over that Ninja Turtles game was a little age inappropriate though. Actually boys, I was thinking…if you want to celebrate separately this year, we could try that instead."

Two blank blue eyed stares met her, almost identical despite the physical differences of their owners.

"Why?" Dick finally asked. "James, did you not wanna spend your birthday with me anymore?"

James shook his head. "I didn't say anything. Did you wanna ditch me?"

Mary sighed. "If you guys are still okay with sharing then it's obviously fine. I was just thinking that where you're older now…well, there's an age difference. If you guys wanted to do different things, it's okay."

"Yeah, but we're brothers," Dick said. "I like sharing my birthday with James."

"Me too," James added. He knew it was a little weird that he spent so much time with Dick and their parents. After all, they weren't really his family, and Dick was four years younger than him, but even after all these years he didn't like being away from them if he could help it. They were the first people that had ever made him feel safe (he'd finally figured out the word for the feeling with some gentle prodding and a laugh from Mary over some cheese fries in a diner). He loved being with his family, and made his best effort to spend every waking minute with them.

"Alright, well, we'll have to figure out what to do for your special day," Mary said with a smile. "So, we'll be doing a couple weeks in New York, we're taking a detour to Gotham for a charity performance, and then we're heading back to Metropolis. Sounds like a good couple of months to me."

"How long are we going to be in Gotham?" James asked curiously. It was one of his favorite cities to visit. It was such a strange mix of affluence and poverty, remarkable achievements and blatant criminal activity. The danger in the air always excited him.

Mary shrugged. "I think we've only got one show. Some billionaire wants us for the night to raise money for a clinic in a low income neighborhood. It's going to be hard work. We won't be there long enough to go see any sights, and we're obviously not making much money since it's for a good cause, but…" She smiled at the groans from her two sons. "C'mon boys, it'll still be fun."

"I know, I know," Dick said with a sigh.

James rolled his eyes. "We're a big time act though. Can't we renegotiate so we have some time to look around?"

Mary shook her head. "You know how Mr. Haly feels about Gotham. It makes him nervous. He's packing up and heading out as soon as the show's over."

"You know, there are cool museums in Gotham too. And it'll be close to our birthdays," Dick pointed out. "Do you think if me and Jamey tag teamed Mr. Haly he'd change his mind?"

"Probably not sweetheart. But if you both want to check out the city, I can ask your father if he wouldn't mind us staying a couple extra days. We can always catch up with the circus on our own. Hey, I said I can ask! Don't get your hopes up yet!" But Mary's pleas fell on deaf ears. The boys had both rushed off to look through the travel brochures they'd started collecting, chattering excitedly about the things they wanted to see when they got to Gotham.

Mary rolled her eyes, and went back to putting away groceries.

* * *

The Graysons celebrated both of the boys' birthdays together as a family on Dick's actual birthday, since it fell on a weekday when they didn't have any performances scheduled. They had a pleasant day out sightseeing, and ended it by splitting an ice cream cake in their hotel room, followed by a Mortal Kombat tournament that very quickly became a contest between John and James (after the first hour, Mary and Dick went into the kitchen to play Uno).

Three days later, when it was James' actual birthday he almost forgot about it. It was a Saturday, so they had two shows, plus an interview with some reporter for a fluff piece. James and Dick were pretty used to being pulled aside for the PR stuff. For whatever reason, people always seemed curious about the two child performers, especially when they found out James was adopted (though he in turn was surprised people couldn't tell just by looking at them; he thought the blond Italian kid rather stuck out in the dark haired and WASPy Flying Graysons).

After all that work he was pretty pooped, and barely had any time to muse on the usual painful thoughts that came on his real birthday until he was supposed to go to bed.

He couldn't help but wonder if his real family missed him the way he sometimes missed them, even though he knew it was stupid and leaving to go with the Graysons was still the happiest day of his life. The nagging thoughts and doubts always came anyway though. James knew that underneath it all, Helen and Frank had loved him. They just weren't good enough people to know how to show it.

Dick dropped right off as soon as his head hit the pillow, but James couldn't sleep. He got out of bed and went out into the kitchen to make some cocoa, and startled Mary.

"Oh, Jamey! I thought you went to bed." She was standing in front of the fridge with a milk carton in her hand. "What's wrong sweetie? Can't sleep?"

He nodded. "Dunno why. I'm bone tired, but…"

Mary replaced the milk carton, a knowing smile on her face. "Why don't you change back into real clothes? Let's go out somewhere and talk it out."

James smiled gratefully, and went to change out of his pajamas.

* * *

It didn't take long for Mary to locate a twenty four hour diner. She steered James inside, and once they were sitting in a booth with a slice of pie each and a cocoa, she smiled warmly and invited him to talk. "Alright Sunshine, what's up? I've got a few guesses, so I'm sure I can make you really uncomfortable trying to figure it out if you don't want to just come out with it."

Intrigued, James leaned forward on his elbows and eyed his adoptive mother with curiosity. "What are your guesses?"

Mary laughed, but obliged him. "Well, I was thinking you might be regretting our lifestyle. You're getting older now, and you've never gotten to go to public school and make friends. I be you'd have a girlfriend by now if you were getting ready to start high school."

"Oh. Yeah, probably. That's not it though. I love living with you and Mr. Grayson and Dick."

"Sweetie, we want you to call us Mom and Dad. You know, if you're comfortable. If not, Mary and John works too. Oh sweetie, is that it? Do you…miss your parents?" She winced as she said it.

James hung his head, feeling like an ungrateful little jerk. Mary and John had given him a life he never even knew enough about to dream of, and he actually was extraordinarily grateful each and every day. However…

"I know that in their own weird way, Mom and Pop loved me. I just wish they loved me enough to…to…I dunno, be more like you and Mr. Gra-John. More like you guys, you know?"

Mary reached across the table and gave his hand a squeeze. "I'm so sorry Jamey. I wish to God your parents had been better to you, but I'm also thankful that we got you. You completed our little family. You know that, don't you?"

"I…I _do_ feel comfortable with you guys. But…" Again, his gaze turned downcast. "I'm not a Grayson. I'm not like you, or Dickie. It's okay though. I think it's good. I got tougher and I appreciate things that Dick just takes for granted. I think it's kinda cool that I know exactly how good my life is now."

Mary touched his cheek, warmth shining in her eyes. "Well, _I_ feel like you're a Grayson. And I mean it when I say you completed us. I never wanted Dick to be an only child, so thank you for being his brother. And not only that, for loving him like one."

James felt like even more of an asshole, eyes locked on the pretty young woman opposite, finally understanding the full weight of her words and catching a glimpse of her private pain in her expressive brown eyes. "You tried, didn't you?"

Mary nodded, leaned back to her own side of the table, and dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. "There was going to be a little girl. She…I lost her about a month before we adopted you. And…just, a few more times. I never got in more than four months after the girl. We were going to name her after my grandmother."

"I'm sorry."

Mary's eyes were shining with unshed tears, but her smile was just as warm as ever. "Don't be James. I mean everything I've ever said to you. You're such a treasure to us, my treasure especially. I'm so grateful we found you. As far as I'm concerned, you are my son, and I love you."

James' voice stuttered and died, caught as a painful lump in his throat. He had so many things he wanted to tell Mary just then, but nothing came out. So he jumped out of his chair and ran to the other side of the table to give his mother a hug. Mary crushed his face to her chest like she had when he was a child (but stopped when he hit double digits) and carded her slender white fingers through his wavy blond hair.

They finished their pie and cocoa in silence. Enough had been said, and sharing each other's company really was all James needed to replace the aching residue of his real parents.

As they were getting ready to leave the diner a couple of college kids came running in, in such excitement that they almost knocked Mary over. "Oops! Sorry ma'am," one of them said, reaching out a hand to steady her. He had a sweet looking face, to the point that it wouldn't have been possible to identify him as college age if he weren't wearing his university sweatshirt.

"Oh, no worries. No harm done." Mary smiled at him, and he returned it.

The second guy had bright pink hair, and he was leaning awfully close to the first one. James took a cautious step back, wishing his mother would step away from the weirdos.

"What's that?" Mary asked, oblivious to James' discomfort. She motioned towards the fliers the one with the pink hair was holding.

The kid briefly looked towards the man behind the counter. "Hey Pete, is it okay if we tack one of these up on the board?" Pete nodded an affirmative, and then the guy turned back to Mary. "We're putting on a drag show next Saturday. It's going to be fantastic. We've got some great performers, including Miss Daphne here," he nodded towards his companion, who gave Mary a saucy wink.

James shrank back even farther, but Mary didn't notice. She asked a few questions about the show, looked over the flier, all the while chatting happily with the sissy freaks.

"You know, I think I will see if I can get to this. I haven't been to a drag show in years. Jamey, do you think you could watch your brother for a few hours? I can't imagine this'll be appropriate for a ten year old."

Pink-hair laughed. "Yeah, probably not. We're a bit rowdy, but it's part of the fun."

"J-Jamey?" Mary finally noticed that the teen was all-but hiding from them. She threw an apologetic frown at the young men, then took James' hand and led him from the diner. "I guess we need to have a chat."

"Are you mad at me?" he asked, thoroughly confused. His papa would have taken a swing at him if he dared to talk to such blatant homos.

Mary dropped his hand and stopped walking. She took a deep breath, and her flushed cheeks started to cool. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry sweetie. It's not like this has ever come up before." She started pacing, and James watched her, feeling anxious. "James…do you have a problem with gay people?"

James blinked at her. "Doesn't everyone? They're weird. They're, like, unnatural."

"Oh boy. Alright, why do they bother you?"

"Uh…why don't they bother you?" he returned, as surprised by the mixture of sadness and frustration she was demonstrating as she seemed to be by his perfectly normal discomfort with freaks.

"Because gay people are _people_, and everyone deserves respect and fair treatment. I don't think there's anything to be afraid of or repulsed by about them. It's all a matter of who you fall in love with. If John had been born a woman, then I'd be a lesbian."

James stared at her in open mouthed wonder. He'd never heard anyone speak that way about homos before. "I thought you had to be born that way. Y'know, messed up or something."

"A lot of people do think you're born that way," Mary agreed. "And if they're right, I'm probably bisexual. I think the outward container is less important than what's inside."

James smirked. "Obviously, because John's _so_ hideous."

Mary laughed. "I happen to be extremely fortunate in that my husband is inwardly and outwardly beautiful. So…you've noticed that John is handsome, have you?"

James' face turned red. "He's my adoptive father. Even if I was a sissy, I wouldn't be checking _him_ out!"

Mary shook her head, a knowing look on her face. "I want you to remember this Jamey, because it's very important. Falling in love with someone, whatever their gender happens to be, does not make you a sissy. It makes you a wonderful, lucky human being. And hating someone for their love makes you the opposite."

Dick was still soundly asleep when James crept back into his bed. He was awake into the small hours of the morning, and eventually watched the sunrise through their bedroom window. Mary had done a good job directing his thoughts away from the painful, but his new thoughts were just as distracting, and even more poorly suited to a restful sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"Dick, if you're not going to eat your breakfast will you at least finish your orange juice? We've got a big performance tonight honey. You're going to need your strength," Mary prodded.

Dick was sitting hunched over the table with his head in his hands. "I don't feel good Mom. Can I just be excused?"

"Hoo boy. You guys always get sick at the worst times." Mary jumped up from the table to go get the thermometer.

"Calm down Mary. It's not like we can help it," John said, looking perfectly unconcerned as he continued munching on his toast. "If Dick's sick then he's sick. We'll give him some medicine and see if he's ready in time for the show. If he's not, he'll just sit it out. Three expert aerialists is still one heck of a show."

"Plus it's not like we're getting paid," James piped up. "It's just the charity show."

"I told you already James, I don't want to hear you talking like that!" Mary called from the bathroom. She returned with the thermometer and stuck it under Dick's tongue (before he was prepared for it, based on the way he sat up and widened his eyes). "We might be making _less_ money than usual, but this performance is more important than our normal ones because the money it raises is going to a good cause."

James rolled his eyes, but focused on his eggs and toast instead of an argument he knew he couldn't win. He didn't see why the billionaire couldn't just pay them their normal rate _and_ donate his own money to the clinic. The guy was certainly rich enough.

Mary felt Dick's forehead even before the thermometer beeped. "Hm. You do feel a little warm, but not very..." Once the thermometer finished, Mary plucked it out of his mouth and inspected it. "98.9. That's not too bad sweetie. Why don't you go rest on the couch? You can take some Tylenol and watch some cartoons, and I bet you anything you'll feel as good as gold before the show even starts."

"But if you don't, there's no need to push yourself," John added, giving his son a severe look.

Dick had a tendency to bite off more than he could chew, and had attempted a few shows in the past while in the throes of childhood illness without alerting his family. The most notable occurrence happened when he was seven; he'd hidden the fact that he had the flu up until he collapsed on the trapeze platform, falling at entirely the wrong angle to hit the net. James had swung out to catch him without a second thought, and spent the rest of the night berating him until Mary, despite her motherly gratitude, sent James to bed.

Mary did as promised and set Dick up in a little sick nest in the living room. Their hotel didn't have very good TV channels, so James went into their room and came back out with a stack of video tapes. They were watching some Bugs Bunny cartoons when there was a knock on the door.

Mary was doing dishes, so John went to answer it. He opened the door, and stepped back with a look of surprise. "Mr. Haly! What brings you by?"

"I just wanted to have a bit of a chat with a couple of our stars," Mr. Haly said cheerfully. There was something off about his smile. It certainly didn't match his fidgety fingers or sweaty palms. John escorted his boss over to the kitchen so that Mary could be included in whatever discussion they needed to have.

James traded a look with Dick, then turned the volume of the television down. They both leaned towards the doorway to listen.

"Hi Mr. Haly."

"Hello Mary my dear. It looks like you've settled into this place nicely. Then again, you do have a knack for turning even the simplest living space into a home."

"Well, Mr. Wayne certainly made the process easier by putting us up in such spacious accommodations. Will I get the chance to thank him myself after the show?"

"Not unless I get the chance to remind the guy that you're happily married," John cut in. The adults laughed at the bad joke, and James turned the volume down on the TV even more. There was definitely something off about Mr. Haly's laugh.

He was scared of something, and James wanted to know what it was.

"Ah yes, well there will be plenty of time for thanks and threats afterwards, of course. In the meantime, business. Er…before business…is little Dickie well? Usually when I see him, the little thing's running about with all his youthful energy."

Dick scowled. "He still thinks I'm a baby."

"Don't worry, it's just because you're a shrimp," James teased back in a whisper, then shushed the retort Dick tried to make.

"He's running a slight temperature," Mary explained. "But we're not worried. I think he'll be fine by tonight. We're certainly lucky Mr. Wayne picked a night show."

"Mm, yes, well considering the boy's history I think it would be prudent not to risk it," Mr. Haly said in a grave voice. Dick chewed on his lip, no doubt feeling guilty over that collapsing fiasco he'd had, but James was pleased with Mr. Haly's call. Now Dick wouldn't have the option of pushing himself too hard and no one would have to worry about him.

"I don't know Mr. Haly. You know how kids bounce back from these things. I agree with Mary on this; I think we should just see how he is when the time comes," John said, and it was James' turn to scowl.

"No, no, I insist. We've got a lot of work ahead of us in Metropolis, and you know, the Daily Planet will be reporting and they have more reach than any paper the boys have been interviewed by yet. I think it's very important for little Dickie to rest up before we get to Metropolis," Mr. Haly rambled. "I absolutely insist that he take the night off. In fact, I think his brother ought to join him so he can keep Dickie company, and, and see to his needs while you're both working. Yes, yes, that'll work perfectly well. Just the thing. The boys will both take the night off, and be well rested for Metropolis."

Mary and John didn't sound happy about it, but they were too respectful to argue with a direct order from their boss. Mr. Haly exchanged a few more polite conversational tidbits with them then took his leave, looking overwhelmingly relieved to do so.

As soon as he was gone James jumped to his feet and raced into the kitchen. Dick made his way there a bit more slowly, clutching a pillow he'd been hugging to his chest.

"That is absolute horse shit!" James yelled. "Why should I have to keep out of the act just because Dick's a little sick!? You guys need to call Mr. Haly back and tell him that we're all going out on stage or none of us are."

"Jamey, calm down," Mary said. She rubbed at her temple, then went back to the dishes. "I think it's odd too, but if Mr. Haly wants you guys to sit it out you're going to have to sit it out."

"Mom, why was he acting so weird?" Dick asked.

She shook her head. "We don't know sweetheart. But you know how Mr. Haly gets. It's hard, running a business like ours."

"Do we have to stay here without you?" Dick asked. "Can we at least go to the show?"

"Of course you can," John said, cutting Mary off.

"John, CC wants the boys to rest."

"Yes, well CC only gets so much say as to what we do with our children. If they want to come to the show, I'm not going to make them sit alone in a hotel room."

Realizing that her family was against her on this one, Mary gave up the fight and returned her attention to the dishes. "Fine, fine. But at least try to rest _until_ the show."

"Okay Mom." Dick trudged back out to the couch.

James went to follow, but hesitated at the doorway. He couldn't shake an awful feeling about the show, and wished Mr. Haly had just minded his own business instead of butting into their morning. He finally walked up to Mary to kiss her cheek, turned a shy smile towards John, then went back to the living room to watch cartoons with his brother.

* * *

James and Dick spent the brunt of the day hanging out and watching TV in the living room. Mary made them grilled cheeses for lunch, by which time Dick's appetite had returned with a vengeance. They played Trouble and Sorry together, and just when Mary and John were getting ready to leave for rehearsal, she thought to check Dick's temperature again.

"98.6. Perfect! Boys, why don't you get dressed and come with us?" The original plan had been for them to meet their parents closer to the show's start time. "I bet we can talk Mr. Haly into letting you go on tonight after all."

James and Dick raced for their room to get their things, Dick checking James into the doorway as they went. "You're gonna pay for that squirt!"

"Yeah, righ-_ow_! Uncle! _Uncle_! Geeze."

Mary rolled her eyes, but patiently waited for her children.

To everyone's surprise, Mr. Haly was waiting for them at the entrance to the tent, and he tried to send the kids back to the hotel room. Now absolutely sure something was wrong, John pulled his boss aside and tried to get it out of him in private. A few minutes later he walked back to his family.

"No dice. James, Dick, you guys still both have to sit the show out."

"What? But why?" James asked.

"That's not fair! I'm all better now!" Dick insisted.

"I know son, but Mr. Haly is our boss. We can't just tell him no. Look, why don't you guys see if Theresa will fire up the deep frier a little earlier, split a fried dough, and grab a good seat?" John suggested.

With identical frowns, the two youngest Graysons dragged their feet as they went off to do as their father said.

* * *

"I guess it is kinda nice to get to watch the show once in awhile," Dick said.

James rolled his eyes. "Because we don't get to watch the clowns run around like doofuses enough during rehearsals? And c'mon, if you've seen one elephant you've seen 'em all."

"You only hate the elephants because the trainer at your old circus was a drunk," Dick returned.

"Hey, have an elephant try to trample your vardo just once and you'll hate 'em too."

"…"

"That never really happened Jamey."

"Would I lie to you pipsqueak?"

"Don't call me that! I'm gonna be taller than you someday."

"Sure you are pipsqueak." James leaned back in his seat and let out a melodramatic sigh. At least they didn't have to sit with the rubes. Mr. Haly had let them set up folding chairs off to the side, which meant they got to talk to their friends and coworkers as they waited for their bits as long as everyone was reasonably quiet.

"James, sit up. It's almost Mom and Dad's turn," Dick hissed.

"First everyone's gonna kiss that smarmy billionaire's ass," James said.

Dick frowned. "You shouldn't talk like that Jamey. Mr. Wayne does a lot of really good stuff with his money."

"You're in show business you twit. You know how important good PR is. I bet he's just as stuck up as any other rich jerk we've ever seen."

As per James' observation, the ringmaster introduced Mr. Wayne as the reason for the night's show, the spotlight shone on him in his seat so he could give a little wave, and then the ringmaster spent a few minutes talking about the work Dr. Leslie Thompkins did in her clinic for those with low incomes.

James was forced to admit that in person, Mr. Wayne didn't look as stuck up as he did in the tabloid photos. He actually looked kinda nice (and he was even more handsome than John).

Of course, he kept that all to himself, still dismissing him as a rich snob to Dick.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, I would like to direct your attention to the tip top of our tent where the top billed performers, the undeniable star attractions of Haly's Circus now wait to mystify you with death defying delights! As I'm sure you're all aware," and here the ringmaster gave the signal to lower the net, "John and Mary are the only performers in the country who perform their marvelous stunts without the assistance of a safety net. Here at Haly's we are committed to giving you genuine thrills with our skills, not to mention gasps and chills. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, without any further ado, the FLYING GRAYSONS!"

"Yeah, half of them," James grumbled under his breath.

"Ssh," Dick hissed.

For the first minute of the act, everything went perfectly. James and Dick watched with polite interest as their parents went through the opening of a routine they'd seen at least a hundred times.

Then Mary's swing lurched a little to the side.

Dick jumped to his feet, sending his folding chair flying. James, on the other hand, was still with shock, face stricken.

"That's not supposed to happen!" Dick yelled.

The beautiful smile Mary wore as a mask during all of her performances slipped, and for a horrifying moment of vulnerability her uncertainty showed on her face.

The swing gave another horrid lurch to the side, swinging her too widely to grasp John's outreached arms. James and Dick watched in horrified anticipation as Mary tried again to reach her husband.

Both boys breathed identical sighs of relief as Mary managed to get off the damaged line, strong but slender hands clasping John's wrists just as securely as he grabbed hers.

Then his line broke completely and, with shrieks of terror, the couple plummeted towards the ground.

James was out of his chair in an instant. Dick was running for the center ring, right into the path of his falling parents. James grabbed him and hugged his brother's face to his chest, blocking his view of Mary and John as they hit the ground.

He knew there was no way for them to survive a fall like that, but James couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of their broken, mangled bodies, hoping against hope for the rise and fall of a chest. Both of their faces were frozen in looks of fear, but Mary's was infinitely worse for having her wide, unseeing brown eyes open.

"Don't look Dickie, don't look," James sobbed, holding his flailing brother as tight as he could.

"Let me go! _Let me go_!" Dick elbowed James in the gut, wriggled out of his arms, and then dropped to his knees in front of his parents' bodies. He let out a wail of loss that hit James harder than even watching the two people he most loved die in front of him.

James dropped to Dick's side and pulled the boys back into his arms and they sobbed out their grief together.

* * *

Bruce's first instinct after the tragedy with the Flying Graysons had been to call Alfred and have him bring in one of his suits, but he was glad he'd fought back that urge. He was getting enough special treatment as Bruce Wayne to already begin his investigation (like the chance to investigate the snapped trapeze swings firsthand), and besides that, Batman wouldn't have been able to talk to the Graysons' children.

The two boys were sitting on one of the benches to the side. The older one had his brother in a protective embrace, shielding him from as much as possible. Anytime anyone approached them, James did all the talking while Dick whimpered quietly in his arms.

Though he was well practiced in suppressing outward signs of his true emotions, Bruce had gotten choked up a few times throughout the night. It would have been easier if Dick Grayson hadn't looked so very much like _he_ had all those years ago…

Giving himself a little shake, he sat down next to the boys, resting his hands on his knees. "Hello James, Dick. My name is Bruce. Do you mind if I talk to you for a few minutes?"

"We know who you are," James said in a shaky, weakened voice that he didn't even seem to recognize coming from his own mouth. "You're the guy that…that sponsored everything. What do you want?"

"Just to talk, and offer whatever comfort I can."

James sneered. "Comfort? From some strange rich dude? Don't bother. We'll comfort each other."

"James, don't be rude," Dick whispered, finally looking up from where he'd had his face buried in his brother's shoulder. "M-Mom always says we shou-shouldn't be rude…we should do what Mom wanted us t-to do."

"I'm sorry Dick. Dick, I'll be polite. Just like Mar…like Mom wanted." James bit his lip, blatantly trying not to cry.

Bruce gave the boys a minute to compose themselves. "I think…I might be able to be of some use to you. There's going to be an investigation into what happened, of course, and the detectives are going to need to ask you questions-"

"We already gave statements. If the cops need to bother us again, they can just talk to me and leave Dick alone," James said, cutting Bruce off.

"Well, they might need both of you to help, and it's probably going to take awhile. I have a lot of friends in the police department, and a fair bit of sway in this town. I can keep you both very well informed of any developments in your parents' case. If you'd like to stay with me while we're sorting this out, I have a lot of room. My house is open to both of you."

Dick started shaking James' arm. "James, say yes! We'll definitely get to stay together that way! I don't want to lose you too."

"I don't know Dick…we should probably talk this over with Mr. Haly."

"What do you mean Dick?" Bruce asked. "Why wouldn't you get to stay together."

The boys traded an uncertain look, and after some sort of silent communication that came from intimate acquaintance, James answered Bruce's question. "I'm adopted."

"I'd already guessed." Bruce had thought the wiry teen looked a bit old to be a biological child of the deceased acrobats.

"James, tell him everything," Dick urged.

Bruce remained quiet, hoping he looked trustworthy to the frightened boys.

"I, uh, wasn't…legally adopted. The Graysons kinda, kinda forced my parents to give me up when they found out I was getting abused. Now that they're dead, there's no one to protect me from my old family anymore."

"It was really bad Mr. Wayne. They beat James up so bad that he had to hide in his wagon sometimes when he was supposed to be performing so that people wouldn't see him and call the cops," Dick added.

Quietly resolving to look into their story, Bruce continued to assure the boys that they would be safe with him, and whatever happened, he wouldn't let them get split up. He gave each of their shoulders a squeeze, said he'd be back for them in a few minutes, then went to find Jim Gordon.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

James and Dick were both silent for most of the night. Even still, as soon as James set foot in Wayne Manor he was pretty sure Dick was having the same thought as him: how does one guy live in a house this big?

He figured their perceptions were a little skewed by being circus brats. James had spent the first seven years of his life in a vardo the size of a small bus. The Graysons did have a two bedroom condo in New York for when they weren't on the road, but they barely stayed there. And besides that, you could have fit ten of those modest little condos in Wayne's entryway alone.

"Come with me, young masters. I'll show you to your rooms."

James bit back the temptation to ask the posh butler if he realized he was a walking caricature and trudged after him up the stairs. Dick clung to James' hand, wide blue eyes nervously darting around the cavernous rooms they passed through.

"M-Mr. Pennyworth?" Dick chirped.

"Yes Master Grayson?"

"Uh…you don't have to call me that. I was just, uh, you said our rooms. Can me and Jamey stay in the same room?"

The butler stopped his brisk walk down the hall, turned, and regarded Dick with an affectionate expression. James warmed up to the guy a little for that. "I assure you sir; we have more than enough space to accommodate any needs you may have, including privacy."

"Y-yeah, but I _want_ to stay with James."

James wrapped an arm around Dick's shoulders. "It's okay Jeeves. We always share a room."

The butler bristled at James' comment, then stiffened back into his formal manner. "Very well then. That is, of course, not a problem. I will show you to your _room_."

Pennyworth led them to a massive bedroom at least four condos big. James dropped his bag on the floor and started strolling around, letting out a low whistle as he took in the elegant, hand carved wooden furniture, and the pricey knick-knacks tastefully arranged on all the surfaces.

"My apologies, but you will have to share a bed for the night. We don't have any rooms set up with two, but that can be speedily rectified in the morning."

Dick set his bag down by the dresser, kicked his shoes off, then jumped up on the bed and gave it a few bounces. He turned an appreciative smile towards the butler. "It's okay Mr. Pennyworth. I think you could sleep all of Haly's in here, even with the bearded lady. And she's like two hundred pounds."

"I'm sure Master Bruce will appreciate hearing that his furnishings have received top circus ranking," the butler said dryly. That same look of affection crossed his face, but fell away when he caught James digging through the dresser drawers. "Just ring if you need anything further."

"We will. Thanks Mr. Pennyworth."

"Master Dick, you may call me Alfred."

"Then you should just call me Dick," he returned.

With a wry smile, Alfred turned and left.

"He likes you more than me," James complained.

Dick shrugged. "It's because I'm charming."

"_I'm_ charming."

"You're a charmer. It's not the same thing. So what do you think?" Dick rolled over onto his stomach and propped his head up with his hands. "Do you trust these guys?"

"I dunno. But I don't think it really matters. We can't work at Haly's without parents until we're sixteen, and I don't think there's a way I can swing it where I can get custody of you since I'm only fourteen. I think we should stay with the guy that's promised to keep us together."

"Me too," Dick agreed without any hesitation. His gaze turned downcast, eyes swimming with tears again. "I can't believe they're really gone."

James hopped up onto the giant bed next to him, and Dick curled up with his head on James' lap. James stroked back his dark hair, trying not to cry himself. It was all well and good for the ten year old to be a sobbing mess, but James had to be strong. He had to look out for them.

He could grieve and be fully traumatized once he knew they were both safe. Until then, losing himself in the role of Dick's caretaker was a welcome responsibility. "We've still got each other Dick."

"Yeah, that's true. Love you bro."

James winced, thinking of that time in the diner, when Mary had opened up to him so much and made him feel so loved, and all he'd done was give her a hug. He'd never told her how he felt, or even called her Mom, and a much less perceptive kid than him could have seen how much she wanted to hear it.

Well, he wasn't making that mistake again. "I love you too Dickie. I promise, I'll always look out for you little bro."

* * *

Bruce was out until four in the morning gathering intel on the Grayson double murder. He was a little sorry to be out so late the boys' first night at the manor, but it was worth it. When he pulled the batmobile into the Cave, he was able to emerge from it with a name on his lips.

"Tony Zucco."

Alfred nodded at him. "I take it you had a productive evening?"

Bruce pulled down the cowl and combed through his sweaty hair with his fingers. "Mm. His boys weren't all that interested in protecting him. I think this was supposed to be an establishing bit of criminal activity for him."

"Do you know where to find this unsavory character?"

Bruce shook his head. "He's gone to ground. I'll look again tomorrow. How are the boys?"

"Morose," Alfred answered patronizingly, a 'what would you expect?' going highly implied. "If you can spare it, I think they would benefit equally from a night of company as to having their parents' murderer behind bars."

"I've got to find Zucco before he flees. The police certainly won't."

"Very well sir."

When the butler left without even giving a flippant remark Bruce took it as censure. Alfred didn't approve of his course of action. Well really, what was he supposed to do? He could always bond with the boys _after_ he'd avenged their parents by capturing the dangerous criminal that had ruthlessly killed them.

Bruce sat down heavily as the full weight of what he'd done hit him. He wasn't just taking on a murder case this time. He'd promised those two children that he'd keep them together. He was going to have to adopt a fourteen year old and a ten year old.

He started rubbing his temple, feeling a headache coming on. "Great decision Bruce, really spectacular. With all your own issues, you've just decided to become a replacement for two loving parents."

There was no way in hell he was going to be able to do this without scarring those boys for life.

* * *

"Hey Alfie, does Mr. Wayne ever spend any time at his house? If he doesn't, why the heck do _you_ spend so much time dusting it?"

Alfred pressed his thin lips together, a gesture that was either a facial tic or a sign of extreme aggravation (since he did it so often while James was talking with him). "Language, Master James."

"I said heck instead of hell or fuck."

Dick laughed, and the butler only rolled his eyes instead of making another futile attempt at correcting James' crassness.

The boys were stretched out on the rug in one of the dens on the first floor, a cheerful fire blazing before them and mugs of cocoa in their hands, while Alfred dusted some antiques. They'd never gone this long in their lives without a show to practice before, and as they weren't enrolled in a school yet, they were treating their stay at Wayne Manor like a vacation.

Alfred turned back to his dusting without further comment, and James gently prodded Dick's shoulder. Sighing, Dick sat up and turned around so that he was facing Alfred. "Excuse me Mr. Pennyworth," Alfred still hadn't quit calling Dick Master Grayson, so he still called him Mr. Pennyworth, "but when _will_ we get to see Mr. Wayne? It feels a little weird living at his house when he's never around."

"I'm terribly sorry young sirs, but Master Bruce is simply busy with prior engagements. I'm, I'm quite sure he'll make more of an effort once these engagements are finished. In the meantime, he's left me instructions to make you as comfortable as possible. You're to consider this as much your home as his."

James rolled his eyes.

"Well in that case, I'm gonna go put my own dishes in the sink," Dick decided.

"I'm still perfectly happy to take care of the dish-"

"But taking care of myself makes me feel more at home," Dick said sweetly.

He grabbed James' arm and tugged him from the room, shutting the door on Alfred's polite, "That really won't be necessary Master Dick."

"I'm not done with my cocoa," James pouted.

"Well that's too bad, because I want some answers."

James fell into step next to his brother. It didn't take him long to realize that they weren't heading anywhere near the kitchen (though the layout of the massive house was still a bit confusing for him). "I know Dick, me too. Did you notice how pissy Alfred looked when he told us that BS about 'Master Bruce's prior engagements'? He thinks the guy's being a prick for avoiding us too."

"I noticed," Dick said with a nod. "But frankly, I couldn't care less what Bruce Wayne does with his free time. I just want to make sure he's really working on making sure we don't get split up."

Dick threw open the door to what looked like either a home office or a study, and James followed him over to an impressive wooden desk. Dick started rifling through the papers, probably hoping to stumble upon some record of communication with Mr. Haly, the Gotham PD, or anything related to their future.

James had actually already looked through that particular desk four or five times that week. Whenever he couldn't sleep (which was most nights), he snooped.

So while Dick studied useless papers, James set his mug down and then strolled around the room, hoping to stumble across something he hadn't seen before. His eyes caught on a conspicuously prominent grandfather clock that wasn't keeping time. James couldn't imagine a nitpicky guy like Alfred letting one of the family antiques fall into disrepair, so he walked over to the clock to take a closer look.

"James, what are you doing?" Dick asked.

"Just looking around," James answered. On a whim, he started moving the hands and felt the slightest pop as the minute hand passed over 47. James pressed his ear against the glass face and listened closely while moving the hour hand.

When the clock hands landed on 10:47, a panel in the clock slid back, revealing a stairwell.

"Holy crap!" James yelled, jumping back.

"What do you think is down there?" Dick asked.

"Only one way to find out."

Dick nodded grimly. "I'd better go first. Everyone likes me better, so if we get in trouble we can say this was my idea."

"This was your idea squirt. I'm just the one who actually found something."

"And you should be very proud of yourself James," Dick said patronizingly. James whapped his shoulder, and wincing, Dick rubbed it as he set off down the stone steps.

* * *

Bruce pulled into the Batcave earlier than expected with some names to put through the computer's databases. Normally Alfred just did that for him so he could stay out on the streets, but he couldn't get ahold of him. Bruce figured his butler was still mad at him for "abandoning" his new charges (in actuality, Alfred was frantically searching the manor for the missing boys and hadn't heard the phone ring).

He half expected Alfred to be waiting for him in the Cave with a disappointed gaze and some sort of pithy remark, but instead he saw Dick spinning himself around in the desk chair that normally sat in front of the computer. James was standing nearby, fidgeting with a batarang.

Bruce scowled. "What are you doing down here?"

"Exploring. Alfie said to make ourselves feel at home," James answered carefully. "This is quite the basement."

Dick stopped twirling the chair with his feet, regarding Bruce with innocent but haunted looking eyes. "Are you…are you looking for the guy that killed them while you're out there?"

Still feeling some reluctance to have necessary but painful conversations with the kids, but backed into a corner about it, Bruce approached them and slid down his cowl. "I've been gathering information every night since it happened. I just have a few more details to look up, and then I'll be able to find him."

"For real?" James asked. "You know who did it?"

Hesitantly, Bruce nodded.

"Who?!" both boys asked, eager but not identical expressions on their faces. Dick just looked heartsick, but there was something raw and hungry in James' eyes. Bruce knew that look well, because he'd worn it often while struggling with himself over what he'd do when he encountered Joe Chill.

It seemed that Dick wanted justice, while his brother wanted vengeance.

"Never you mind. You'll get the full story once the man's behind bars, now go upstairs-"

"Behind bars?!" James snapped. "What the hell do you mean behind bars? That asshole murdered the two most loving, wonderful people that ever walked this planet! He's gotta be pure, unfiltered evil to do something like that and he needs to suffer!"

"J-jamey?" Dick tried to reach out to James, but he shrugged him off and stalked away, breathing heavily with tear filled eyes. "James…are you okay?"

"Of course not. I feel sick. I've never hated anyone more in my life, and I don't even know who I hate! I-I want to murder him right back! Tear his skin off or throw him in a vat of acid or make him eat a stick of dynamite or just break every bone in his body one at a time with a blunt object."

Suddenly, James threw the batarang, and whether it was the energy of his rage or just innate skill, Bruce couldn't help but admire the distance he got on it, and the way it stuck deeply in the rock wall.

Bruce approached the trembling teen and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. He didn't say anything; the lectures on the hollowness of revenge, and the gnawing consumption and agony of hatred would come later. For now he offered the grief-stricken teen a service he'd been denying him all week, and was simply there to listen.

Hot tears streamed down James' face. He tried to fight it at first, wiping his eyes with his arms, but when Dick came over and joined them, crying freely himself, James almost fell over from his wracking sobs. Bruce wrapped a protective arm around James, and the poor kid pressed his face into the Kevlar of the suit, howling his pain and loss, while his little brother hugging him just as tightly.

* * *

Alfred almost jumped out of his skin when Bruce walked out of the Cave with the Grayson boys in tow. "Goodness!"

For a long, tense moment Alfred only stared at his employer and friend, and the brothers standing either side of him, then Bruce broke the tension by placing a hand on Dick's shoulder. "It's alright. We've decided to trust each other."

Bruce didn't elaborate, but he didn't really need to.

"Very good sir." Alfred made a mental note to bring hot chocolates with him the next time he brought Bruce coffee in the Batcave, and then went about his business while Bruce walked the boys up to their bedroom.

* * *

The next day, when Bruce returned to his office in the Wayne Enterprises building after a lunch meeting, it was to find James sitting in his chair, spinning it in circles much the way Dick had in the batcave the night before.

He really needed to get on getting the boys enrolled in school. Clearly the older one needed something to occupy his time so he wouldn't make trouble.

"Hey B-Man," James greeted.

Bruce slammed the door shut and approached the desk wearing a glare that made grown men wet themselves. It didn't seem to have much effect on a cocky adolescent. "You are _not_ to address me that way."

"Dude, your name starts with a B. You're the one making it suspicious by freaking out like that." James stood up and cheekily offered Bruce his own chair. He pointedly remained standing with his arms crossed. James shrugged it off and sat down on the corner of the desk.

"What are you doing here?" Bruce demanded.

"I wanted to talk to you. Obviously."

"We can talk at the manor. I'm working."

"Yeah, but Dick's at the manor." James started showing a bit of vulnerability at the mention of his brother, and Bruce felt his irritation dissipate. "Look….this jumping off rooftops and beating up bad guys thing that you do…I got to thinking that I-"

"No."

"Oh come on! Can you at least let me finish talking before you say no?!" James exploded.

Bruce decided to try the glare again, and got a petulant scowl in return. "I work alone."

"Well you don't have to. I can help, really! I'm smart, and I throw a pretty good punch, and-and!" James ran around the desk to stand in front of Bruce, eyes shining. "I'm a trained acrobat. That's gotta come in handy, right?"

Bruce started listing off all of the skills he'd mastered before beginning costumed vigilante work, and after five minutes of listening mutely James cut him off. "Okay, okay, so you've got more training than me! But I can learn, and I certainly know enough to work with you on bringing in one guy-"

"James, the answer is no. I appreciate the fact that you want to _bring this man to justice_," he said it like a warning, "but it's too dangerous. The last thing I want to do is put you in any kind of situation-"

"But Bruce-"

"-that could rob Dick of the last living member of his family."

James scowled again. "Well that's not playing fair."

"I'm not playing games James. Your brother needs you."

Their argument was interrupted by the office door being flung open. Wondering how much worse his workday was going to get, Bruce spun around to tell whoever it was that he needed at least ten more minutes.

Before he managed that though, he was distracted by James ducking behind him in terror.

"Well lookit that! You're trying to make us clear out of here, saying we have no business with you guys, and there's our little Jamey right there!" Frank Jesse bellowed.

"Hello little angel!" Helen trilled, willfully ignoring James' terrified reaction to seeing his biological parents for the first time in seven years, apparently in the belief that if she perpetuated the delusion everyone else would buy it too.

Bruce's secretary was standing behind the brash circus performers, looking slightly sick. "I'm so sorry Mr. Wayne. I told them they needed an appointment-"

"And we told her that we had every right to demand you let us see our son. He was kidnapped from us! What kind of people would we be if we didn't try and get him back?" Frank asked.

Bruce reached behind him and squeezed James' wrist. He told his secretary it was alright, and she reluctantly left, closing the door behind her.

"You must be Frank and Helen. I've heard all about you," Bruce said, with careful emphasis on the last bit.

Frank's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Then you musta heard the Graysons had no legal right taking our boy away from us."

"Those wicked people destroyed us! They saw Jamey and saw how good he was, and they took him for their own act and left us heartbroken and wretched! We haven't been able to find steady work since," Helen said tearfully. She wasn't a bad actress, but if she was going to pitch her voice like that, she ought to have worked up some actual tears to go with it. "Jamey, please, come say hello to us."

"I told Mr. Wayne everything that you really did to me, just like I told the Graysons," James said, trying and failing to hide how frightened he was. "He promised he wouldn't let me get taken away, that me and Dick wouldn't get split up."

"Who said anything about you getting split up? We'll take the Grayson brat too. He's twice the performer you are, and he's still small and cute," Frank said. Helen elbowed him in the stomach.

"Of course the poor dears shouldn't be separated after what they've gone through," she said carefully.

"I've already begun the process of legally adopting James and Dick," Bruce said. He let go of James and stepped forward, and Frank took an unconscious step back.

"You're certainly…bigger'n you look in the papers," Frank muttered. "But you won't intimidate me!"

"It looks like he's intimidating you to me Pop," James said with a grin.

"You can't adopt him Wayne, he's our son!" Helen yelled, stepping forward and jabbing a bony finger at Bruce's chest. "I gave birth to him and that makes him mine!"

"And yet you let him go for seven years without once filing a missing persons report. If you do attempt a custody battle, I think my lawyers," he briefly paused, letting the thought of the legal team he could afford to put together sink in, "will be able to make use of that."

"Helen, let's just get out of here. He's right," Frank hissed.

"No! I'm not just gonna walk away again. Jamey, this is ridiculous! Come home where you belong."

"I belong with Dick," James insisted. "He's my brother and I love him."

"We're your family, not that little Grayson shit!" Helen screeched.

"Madam, I'm going to have to insist you leave," Bruce all but growled.

Frank tugged on his wife's arm. "Helen, I don't think I can take a guy that big. C'mon, let's just go."

To Bruce's surprise, and James' as well based on his facial expression, Helen burst into actual tears and buried her face in her hands. It didn't look like she was acting this time.

"M-mom?"

"Af-after all these years, I f-finally found you ag-again an' I gotta walk away…I know I was a bad mom, I know it, but how can I ever make it up to you if I can't even _see_ you?!"

James hesitantly approached his parents. Bruce stood just behind him, ready to help if need be but respecting his choice to confront them. Helen removed her shaking hands from her face. Her cheeks were stained with eyeliner and mascara, and her red lips were quivering.

"Oh Angel, you-you got so big…you're almost a man now." Her grey eyes widened as she took him in. "So handsome. Y-you look like your grandpa, you know that? Just like m-my Papa…"

"Mom, if you really want to make my childhood up to me-"

"Of course I do Jamey, I'll do anything! I-I knew it wasn't right, letting you get…letting, that is-"

"Will you fucking say it Mom? You let Pop beat the shit out of me!" James yelled, surprising the adults with his sudden anger.

Helen started crying again. "What could I do Giovanni? It wasn't only you he was beating you know."

"Yeah, and instead of trying to stop him, you threw me at him so he'd lay off of you!" James accused.

Bruce tore his eyes away from the emotional mother and son to use one of his more subtle glares (certainly not one Frank Jesse would recognize if he found himself alone in a dark alley with the dark knight) on the father. Face pale and stricken, Frank started edging towards the door.

"Ma, if you really want to make anything up to me you'll just let me go."

Helen covered her mouth with her hand. She gasped a few times, trying to talk, then she spun around, grabbed Frank's arm, and pulled him after her out of the office.

As soon as the door closed behind them James' legs gave out on him and he fell to his knees. Bruce knelt next to him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You're really adopting us?" James whispered. Bruce nodded. "And…if they do start something, you've really got an army of fancy lawyers, right?" Again, Bruce nodded.

He stayed with James, waiting for the teen to regain his composure. After a few minutes that terrified look left his eyes, and he smiled again. "Oh man…oh man, that was scary. Whew."

"It's alright James. I'll protect you and your brother, I promise."

"Yeah, speaking of that…so we were just talking about how dangerous what you do at night is…don't you think you should have someone watch your back so you can be there to keep that promise?"

Bruce definitely liked the younger brother better.


End file.
